A Profiler is Born
by tearbos
Summary: Reid could have done anything with his genius. He chose to be a profiler. This mini-series explores his possible motives. A tearbos/mabelreid collaboration.
1. Personal Experience

**This collection explores possible reasons for Reid choosing to become a profiler. None of the one-shots are related, but this general disclaimer covers all of them.**

**Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, domestic violence, and otherwise angsty events.**

**Neither Mabelreid nor I own any part of CM. The only things we can claim-our OCs and our plots.

* * *

**"It's just a simple question, Dr. Reid."

"I still don't understand what it has to do with my post-shooting psych eval."

"It has nothing to do with your shooting, but it does have a part in your evaluation."

"Why? I shot Daryl Westin two days ago, not six years ago when I joined the Bureau."

"That may be true, but the decisions you made then led you to the events of Wednesday."

"How so?"

A deep sigh. "Look, I realize that you are perfectly capable of faking this evaluation without ever telling me anything substantial."

"What's your point?" he queried irritably.

"My point, Dr. Reid, is that while you are a genius and a profiler, you are hiding behind those labels and keeping the real Spencer Reid locked away somewhere."

"And?" he growled.

"I think it's time you let him out for a while. I don't want another session with Dr. Spencer Reid, FBI Special Agent extraordinaire. I want to talk to Spencer, the man who has to cope with the emotional ramifications of killing someone."

The stony silence following this statement wasn't surprising to Dr. Benson, but it was certainly frustrating. He strongly felt that if he could get to know who Spencer really was, he would be able to tell when he wasn't being honest about his feelings toward the recent events.

"So, I will repeat my question again: what made you decide to become a profiler Spencer?"

After a few seconds, he casually replied, "I liked the health plan."

"Sarcasm will get you nowhere. Try again."

"It seemed like a good way to travel."

"Again," he stated firmly.

"I wanted to carry a gun."

It took every ounce of professionalism Dr. Malachi Benson possessed to refrain from slapping his uncooperative patient. To satisfy his need to release some anger, he chose to use a verbal assault instead. He was determined to get more out of Spencer than the sarcastic remarks and angry glares he'd been getting for the past half hour.

"So you just decided to join the FBI so you could look cool carrying a badge and gun?"

An annoyed look was his response.

"Or, you wanted a chance to show off your brilliance at any given opportunity?"

"Humph," Reid snorted irritably.

"Or, did you think that spending your time poking around in criminal's heads would distract you from facing your own issues?"

Reid's jaw dropped. "What?" he yelled furiously. _Finally, some emotion!_

"What are you running from Dr. Reid?" He didn't really know which tactic would have an effect-he just kept throwing out ideas until he got an appropriate response.

"Are you implying…?" Reid half-rose from his seat indignantly.

"Who is it in your life that that has mistreated you, or done you so wrong that you spend your life chasing serial killers and sadists?" It went against his policy to raise his voice during a session, but this patient called for a bit of rule bending.

"My father."

The whispered words were so quiet and forlorn compared to the irate shouts of moments ago that Dr. Benson was momentarily stunned. Reid's anger visually drained from him, and he sank back into the soft recliner behind him. Dr. Benson didn't speak, as Reid curled up defensively in a corner of the chair, in hopes that Reid would keep speaking without prompting. When he didn't, Dr. Benson gently prodded, "What about your father?"

"My brother," he answered in a raspy voice. _Brother? I don't remember seeing anything about a brother in his file._ "My brother was…murdered. I was eight; he was eleven." _Oh, that's right! I remember that his brother died. But, that was an accident…_ "The police ruled it an "accident"…" his tone of voice clearly showed he disagreed with that conclusion. "But I've always suspected my father of killing him intentionally."

"What?" Dr. Benson couldn't suppress the gasp of shock at this revelation.

"He…he could get pretty violent…when he wanted to or when he had a lot to drink. He hit my mom a lot, yelled at her…I think he had a lot to do with her break. My brother's death sent her over the edge." He'd delivered the entire speech in a sorrowful undertone. The quiet, almost reverent manner added to the eerie surreal atmosphere. The tense silence filled the room for several minutes until finally Dr. Benson spoke softly.

"What happened to your brother Spencer?"

"He was trying to protect me!" The pain-filled outburst hit Dr. Benson with a stab of pain, but he chose not to interrupt. "He was always trying to protect me," he murmured regretfully. "He would…he kept my father from hitting me a lot of times. Sometimes… he would take my "punishment" for me because he knew I was teased a lot at school already. He didn't want the other kids to pick on me if I had bruises on me."

"He didn't mind going with bruises?"

"My father was more careful with him. I guess he figured he could write me off as being clumsy, but he had to be cautious with Greg in case anyone got suspicious."

"Your brother's name was Greg?"

"Yeah, William Gregory actually. He was named after my father-we both were. He was my best friend. We did pretty much everything together, and his last year we were in several of the same eighth grade classes. He was so smart, not "genius" like me, but he skipped a grade. We always did our homework together, and we made our parents so mad because we'd switch out work. I could forge his writing so I'd make two copies for us to turn in. We would be done so quickly that my mom would check to be sure that we'd done everything. Then we would play chess and poker, or test each other at Trivial Pursuit all night…"

Dr. Benson smiled at the reminiscent look on Spencer's face, and he was glad that he had some pleasant memories mixed in with all of the terrible ones he seemed to carry.

"After he died, my father was very careful with me for a while. There were surprise visits from Child Services, and my teachers and school nurses kept a close eye on me for signs of abuse. By the time I went to high school, though, things had settled down and my father went back to his old ways…" he paused and stared at the wall with moist eyes. His face took on a hard expression.

"By then my mom was on the decline and I don't think she even realized what was going on. My father stopped yelling at my mom most of the time because she just didn't understand anyway. He took the majority of his frustration out on me. Then one day he got really angry and broke my arm. The hospital staff notified the police and they were going to investigate. That's when he decided to leave. My mom was such a wreck that she didn't know why he had to leave. She…she even begged my father to take me with him. I was actually afraid that he might. Well, I guess you know the rest of the story from there."

"Yes, I do. Thank you for sharing with me Spencer."

He laughed bitterly. "You wanted to know. I bet you regret asking now."

"No I don't. I bet you've never had anyone to discuss this with." Spencer shook his head. "So it's good for you to talk about all of this. I can see, however, that you managed to overcome all of this and use it to help other people, to prevent tragedies like the one you suffered."

"I guess so…I just didn't think it was fair for things like that to happen. My father got away with what he did, and I wanted to make sure that others like him wouldn't."

"That's quite admirable Spencer. The BAU is fortunate to have you with them." Spencer gave him a tiny smile. "Speaking of the BAU, I'm sure your team is anxious for you to return to active duty. I'm going to sign your release papers, but I'm scheduling you for another session before you go back officially. Is that acceptable?"

"Yes sir, I can agree with that."

"Good. Be sure to see my secretary on your way out, and the paperwork will be on Agent Hotchner's desk in the morning."

"Thank you Dr. Benson."

"You're welcome Spencer. Have a good evening." He watched the door close behind the young agent, and he turned to his notes to fill in the details for Spencer's file.


	2. Cold Case

**A/n hey all, mabelreid here, this is my first contribution to the collaboration. Please comment as you would for tearbos' wonderful work. Thanks for your support of these one-shots**

**Cold Case**

"Checkmate in seven moves," Reid said to Emily as he moved his bishop to intercept a rook on her side.

"You can get that smug, "I'm a genius and I'm better at chess then you," tone right out of your voice. Emily informed him while looking over the board.

"But I'm right though," He said.

"Yeah… you're right. I'm going back to work."

Reid was about to open his mouth and tell her that pouting was unattractive when JJ entered the bullpen and dropped a rather large file on his desk.

"Since you have so much time on your hands, I found an interesting cold case for you to look at."

"JJ…" He whined.

"I promise you'll have fun. It's very interesting."

He glared up at her. "You say that every time you give me one of these and mostly they're frustrating."

"Reid… Would you like some cheese with the whine?"

"Cheese… Why would I want cheese right now?"

Emily laughed and JJ rolled her eyes. "Just look at the case file Reid." She left Emily snickering and Morgan, who'd been silent during the exchange with a large grin on his face.

"Nothing to see here," Reid said to both of them between gritted teeth. "Don't you have work to do?"

"No. but it looks like you do." Emily said and Morgan laughed. "Come on Morgan, you can buy me a cup of awful FBI coffee."

They left Reid mumbling under his breath and headed to the break room. He pulled the file toward him and opened it. Time seemed to stand still and the very breath in his lungs turned into molasses. He couldn't take a breath. His chest hurt and he was getting so light headed that the room began to spin around him.

"Reid…" A voice came from down a long tunnel.

"Reid…" Emily was yelling at him. Why was she yelling at him?

A hand clamped down on his shoulder and pushed his head between his legs. A voice was telling him to breath and he did, gasping each one into his nose because his mouth was clamped tight over the scream that wanted to burst out of him mouth.

"Reid man, you need to calm down." Morgan's voice was there and it sounded frightened. Why was Morgan afraid? Morgan was never afraid, so it must be a mistake. He'd look up and it would be a mistake.

He shook off his friends hand and looked up. Morgan was afraid and it jolted Reid out of the grey haze that had fallen over his eyes when he'd opened the case file.

"I'm okay…" He assured his friend and Emily who was right behind them.

"You scared the hell out of us man," Morgan was saying and Emily nodded. Her eyes were huge in their sockets.

"I'm okay," He repeated. However, the way his voice shook made Morgan scowl.

"Sure you are… That's why you're white as a sheet. You nearly fell out of your chair."

"Morgan, please don't push it."

"We're concerned Reid." Emily said before Morgan could answer.

"I know… I'm sorry," Reid said again. "I'll tell you all what's going on with this case." He indicated the case file and Morgan frowned.

"The cold case, how could it be -?"

"In a minute… I need to get everyone together." Reid insisted as JJ re-entered the bullpen.

"JJ… would you get everyone in the bull pen." He asked as he passed her heading to the conference room.

"Yeah sure Reid…" She looked at Emily curiously. Emily only shrugged her shoulders in confusion.

--

The team had assembled, including Garcia. Reid let JJ give the details of the case as it was outlined in the case file, while his hand shook and his heart beat strangely in his chest.

"In 1988, Las Vegas had a serial killer. His first known victim was Caroline Spinnet. She disappeared from her home November 1st of that year. She was found in the desert by a couple off-roading 30 miles west of I-15, two days later. Her son also went missing and his body was never recovered."

Reid made his eyes look up at the sandy haired boy on the monitor.

"This is Joshua Spinnet. He was seven years old when he went missing. The first suspect for both disappearances was Harold Spinnet, his father. Unfortunately, there was no evidence to hold him.

Three more women were abducted in the next three months, Janet Darcy, Katrina Mitchell, and Suzanne Kramer. They were found two days after they each disappeared. The most telling difference is that Mrs. Spinnet was bludgeoned to death and dumped in the desert. The other three were raped, tortured, and bludgeoned to death and dumped near their places of business. They were all high risk areas. The killings stopped after the third murder. No one knows why he's been silent for twenty years."

"JJ told me you know something about this,' Hotch had turned to the young genius who was rather white faced.

"Yeah… I know who killed these women. I've known since I was seven years old."

The others looked at each other and then at their youngest member.

"Tell us what you know," Hotch said trying not to be angry that his young agent knew a murderer was out there and he hadn't tried to do anything about it.

Reid drew in a deep breath and began to tell the story that had haunted him for nearly twenty years.

"I had two friends when I was growing up in Las Vegas. They were the only good friends I had when I was a child. We lived next door to each other. My house was in the middle of the other two and they were the only ones that didn't desert me when I started skipping grades in school. There was Justin Cooper who lived in the house to the left. He was chubby, redheaded, and freckled. The other boys picked on him almost as much as they did me. We tried to protect each other. Then there was Joshua Spinnet in the house on the right. He was home schooled and almost as gifted as me. His mother was a housewife and his father a traveling salesman.

We used to watch our neighbors with my dads binoculars. They guys would come to my house because we had an actual attic with windows. I called it observing human behavior, my friends called it spying. What can I say; we were bored, especially in the middle of summer."

He looked around at the amused faces of his teammates and thought about what they must have done to pass the time during the summer holidays.

"Anyway, Justin had come over one July night when we had a rare rainstorm. Josh was at home, sick, which meant his father was home. Josh's dad was abusive, and no one did anything about because he was home schooled. I wanted to call CPS but Justin said they wouldn't believe a seven year old. I didn't believe him until Josh disappeared.

We were watching Josh's house, waiting for him to signal to us from his house that his did was gone. His father would often leave in the evenings and we could go over there for a few hours. I was the one that saw what happened. I saw his father kill his mother. I saw him take her body out to his car under the cover of darkness and the rain. Then I saw him kill Josh and load him in the car too. I wanted to call the cops right then, but Justin said they wouldn't believe us and we'd get in trouble if we tried."

His voice was beginning to crack and squeak remembering how they'd watched through the rest of the night, until the car came back.

"My mother didn't care if we stayed up all night. Justin's mother thought he was sleeping over at Josh's house. We argued all night about calling the cops. I tried to tell him that his father could get rid of the evidence and then Josh's dad would get away with murder. Justin said that they might take me away because of my mom's disease and the fact that my dad was never around. I didn't want to go live with a foster family. I loved m-my m-mom and d-dad even if t-they ignored me."

He stopped talking and the others were silent as he tried to get his shaking voice under control. He looked down at his case file so he wouldn't have to meet the disapproval he was sure was in all of their eyes. They would probably just leave the room now and let him flounder on his own. It was okay; he deserved it.

"So… our main suspect is a traveling salesman," Rossi spoke up first.

"Let's start at the beginning…" Hotch said, "You know we need to proceed as though there is a suspect to keep the profile intact."

"But Hotch, we have an eye witness that's better then anyone we've every dealt with," Morgan argued.

Reid looked up as they jumped into the case like it was just another day at work. A warm, happy feeling traveled from his face to his fingertips and his toes. They didn't hate him for what he failed to do. He didn't understand why they didn't hate him, but he wasn't going to complain.

--

"Come in…" Hotch said, and looked up to see Emily standing in the door way. "Emily?"

She sat down and began to talk very fast. "I'm worried about Reid. He's been working this cold case every minute of the day and night for a week. I know he's not sleeping and he doesn't eat. He drinks coffee by the truckload and he won't talk to anyone unless it's about work."

He watched the normally cool and controlled Emily fidget nervously in her chair. He'd seen the same things and had tried to get Reid to slow down, but it appeared that harsher measures might be called for.

"Tell him to come up here," he said. "Please!"

She left his office and was gone for a long time before he heard the commotion and the yelling from the bull pen. What the hell had happened now?

--

When Reid woke up six pairs of eyes were looking down at him with various looks of annoyance and anger on their face, but there was some relief in their eyes too.

"What happened," He croaked.

"Too much caffeine, too much work, not enough food or sleep," Garcia spoke up before the others could speak.

"I don't remember…"

"We know… You collapsed at work yesterday." Hotch said his voice low with anger.

Reid flinched at the fury in his boss's eyes and decided to look at Emily instead. Her dark eyes were snapping too, so he looked at JJ. She was frowning and her blue eyes had darkened with anger. He looked at Rossi and he was the only one that wasn't mad, but he looked very annoyed and impatient.

"You're going to stay here for as long as the doctor says you will and you will do everything he tells you to do. You will take a week off and get some rest and I don't want to hear any complaints." Hotch snapped when Reid opened his mouth.

"Yes sir…"

The team left the room except for Hotch. Reid watched his boss pace once around his room with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Are you going to tell me what you think you're doing?" He finally said.

"I'm trying to close this case." Reid shot back defensively.

"You think killing yourself is going to bring back your friend."

"No… I don't think -"

"Reid… I'm going to keep you on this case, because you're the best one to close it."

Reid gave a tiny sigh of relief and then Hotch said. "But, you'll do as I said and get some rest. And, I want to know why you're pushing on this so hard."

Reid turned to look at the window to his left while Hotch sat down in the chair on his right. The trees were bare of leaves and the sky was grey. It looked like rain. If he could get out of here -

"I know what you're thinking, and you're staying here till the doctor tells you otherwise." Hotch said.

"Fine… I joined the FBI and the BAU because I wanted to make sure that nothing like what happened to Josh happens to anyone else ever again."

Hotch was so quiet for so long that Reid turned back to see if the man was still there. He was, and his face was softer and thoughtful.

"The BAU is lucky to have an agent like you. I don't care why you're here as long as you do your job in a responsible way."

"I'm sorry Hotch," His chocolate eyes cut Hotch's heart with their misery. "It's my fault he's out there and may have hurt others. I should have called the police."

"You can wallow in self pity all you want Reid, but you're not that kid anymore. Your friend was right about the police, they wouldn't have believed you. Now, get your rest and I want you back and ready to work in a week. No more wallowing in guilt, do you hear me?"

"Yeah…"

Hotch clapped a hand on his shoulder and he smiled. "I'm proud of you. You can get through this and if I were your friend's dad, I would be a bit scared right now."

Reid smiled widely all the way up to his eyes. "Okay…" He whispered.

--

Six months later Hotch called Reid into his office. The young man had done what Hotch asked him to do and he looked ten times better then when he'd collapsed at work.

"Sit down Reid," He said when the young agent entered his office. "I just spoke to Garcia. She found Spinnet. He's a guest of the state of New York for rape and murder."

He saw Reid relax back in the chair as if he were a deflated balloon. "I want to talk to him." Reid said.

"It's already been arranged. If anyone can get him to cope to the Nevada murder and get the where-a- bouts of Joshua, you can. Don't let me down!"

"I won't Hotch, thank you sir."

--

The team gathered in the bull pen which was decorated with red yellow and blue balloons and streamers. There was a banner that read "Happy Birthday Reid," over the young genius's desk. The elevator opened and Reid stepped out to a chorus of Happy Birthday's and Congratulations. Reid went cherry red over all the attention and tried to hide in the break room. Morgan pulled him back into the middle of the room and the others pounced, wanting to know all the details of his visit to Rikers Island.

"…so he told me everything and the authorities are looking for Joshua's remains were Spinnet said they would be. I'm not hopeful though," He said dejectedly. "I doubt after all this time in the desert that there's anything left to find."

"Don't think that way Reid. I'm sure there will be something." Emily said.

"Actually did you know that the human body can be reduced to skeletal remains in less then a week if the right conditions are present? You have to have the right combination of heat and -"

"Reid…" Hotch said, but he was smiling.

"Sorry… Hotch I want to go back to Vegas. Even if they don't find anything, I want to make sure he gets a proper memorial."

"Of course… take all the time you need."

"Thanks Hotch."

"Now, let's eat the cake." Garcia said, leading Reid back to his desk.


	3. Pet Names

**This chapter references events from "Plain Sight."**

Reid took a deep breath and knocked gently on the closed office door. "Come in," JJ's voice called out distractedly. He cautiously walked inside and stood just over the threshold, fidgeting nervously. He didn't speak and finally JJ looked up from her stack of paperwork. "Hey Birthday Boy! I'm right in the middle of something."

"I'm sorry to interrupt JJ. I just wanted to talk to you for a minute if that's ok."

"Sure Spence, what's up?" He walked further into her office and shut the door behind him. He was too anxious to sit, so he stood in front of her desk and leaned against a chair.

"I actually need you to do me a favor."

"Ok, what is it?"

"I, um…I need for you not to call me 'Spence' anymore." The look of pure surprise on her face made what he had to do even more difficult than it already was. "I don't know if you know you're the only one that calls me that_, _but I really hate it."

"Oh. Ok sure Sp-Reid." Though she tried to sound cheery and upbeat, it didn't take a profiler to notice the disappointment in her tone or see the confusion and hurt in her eyes. _Damn, I knew this wouldn't go over well._

"Look, JJ it isn't because of you, really, and it has nothing to do with the game yesterday. It's just the name itself."

"It's ok, I understand. I'll be sure to remember that from now on." She turned back to her files abruptly, and every about her body language screamed to him that she was upset. He sighed deeply and paced the length of her office with his head down.

"No, JJ, you don't understand. The only other person that ever called me 'Spence' was my father." He paused as he debated yet again whether or not he should share this information with her. _No, it's already decided, _he reminded himself. _I have to tell her or she'll think it's about the whole "I just want to be friends" thing._ He looked up and saw that she was watching him, waiting for him to continue. He took another deep breath. "My father is a wanted sex offender, has been for over twenty years." He watched her eyes widen in shock and the folder she was reading fell to her desk. "Only a few people know this," he stopped pacing and gave her a hard stare until she nodded her understanding. "CAC has been searching for him for years now. Anyway, his first victims were some boys that lived near us and a girl from the school down the street. He started with me when I was four." He paused to let the words sink in. "I don't think my mom knew, at least not until years later. That's part of the reason why he left; that plus the accusations that were coming out from the neighborhood kids. When he left, he assumed another identity and hasn't been seen since."

He glanced up to see JJ leaning forward with her arms on her desk and her hands over her mouth and tears pooled in her eyes. He hated himself for telling her this-_no one should know this stuff-_ but there was a reason behind this confession. "I'm telling you this so you'll understand my feelings. My father only ever called me 'Spence' when he…" he deliberately trailed off, letting her imagination and years of exposure to crimes of this nature fill in the blanks for him. He could tell the moment the terrible realization hit her. "Afterwards, he always went back to 'Spencer' like everyone else. So just hearing the nickname…well, it makes me think of him. I don't want you to be associated with those memories."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry Reid. I wish I had known!"

"I didn't want you, or anyone else, to know. I try to keep those sordid details in the past. But I just had to let you know so it wouldn't make our work relationship or our friendship strained." She just stared at him with a horrified expression. He decided it was time to lighten the mood. "So now, JJ Jareau, it is your mission to find me a new nickname." She lifted her head in surprise.

"But…I can't…" she protested softly.

"Sure you can. I'm counting on you to be creative." He gave her the best smile he could muster and walked toward the door. He laid his hand on the knob before turning to face her again. "JJ, don't stress over it, and please don't be upset. I didn't tell you this to make you sad. It's in the past, and it's made me good at what I do now. I just didn't want you to think I was holding hard feelings against you."

She nodded her head forcefully. "I know. Thank you for trusting me." She still looked shell-shocked, but at least the miserable expression had lessened a tiny bit. He tipped his head in response and left her to ponder his revelation.


	4. The Baby in the Circle

_**A/n hey all, it's Mabelreid here again. Just a warning for you, this contains mentions of events in the "Popular Kids." There are also violent, and somewhat graphic images in this oneshot. Other then that, please enjoy, and drop us a review when you're done.**_

_**The Baby in the Circle**_

The warehouse stank… There was no other word for it. Reid was used to the smells that accompanied crime and death: the scent of decomposition, the stink of fear, the coppery smell of death and a million other odors that went with scenes of violence.

The stink permeated the large room despite the freezing wind that ripped through the door Reid had just opened. It overwhelmed him till the sights of the carnage pulled his senses away and clamored for his attention. The white plumes of his breath billowed into the air from the hitching inhalations and exhalations of air through his mouth and nose. There was red blood in streaks and splatters of the concrete walls and floor. The floor was filthy with garbage and pools and streaks of motor oil.

His gun was out and his eyes were open for the children the team had sought for days. Morgan was at his side and the older agent gestured for Reid to go right around a stack of old boxes to their left. His ears were straining to hear anything over the wind that whistling around the building. The only thing to be heard was the rest of the team's footsteps in the echoing silence and their low voices in his ear through the radio.

His arms were beginning to ache from holding out his Glock in front of him, but he couldn't put it down till the warehouse was cleared. He eased around the corner of another stack of box and found a pile of dirty rags on the hard floor near the wall.

His eyes went wide and his breath stopped in his chest before his heart began to gallop at a furious rate. There was more blood on the walls, the floor and the rags. In the center of the makeshift bed lay a tiny baby, her skin grey and black with splotches of dried blood. Her eyes were open and her little throat had been cut. She was quite dead and beyond his help.

"Oh God… No!"

_The little baby in the corner of the room was screaming. How long had they been in this room together? He covered his ears, but could still hear the little girl crying. The men that had grabbed him from the street had left them there for what felt like days. _

_He didn't know why there was a baby there with him. He didn't know who the men were or why they had taken him away from his mommy. His six year old brain shouldn't have been able to process any of this, but Spencer Reid was no ordinary six year old. He knew what kidnapping was and why people did it. However, his intellectual understanding couldn't translate to his emotions. He was terrified and ashamed because he'd already wet his pants in fright and it looked like the men had bad things ready to hurt him. _

_The baby wailed and Spencer got to his feet. There was no need to restrain him. The door was locked, he'd already tried it when he first awoken with a headache and a very dry mouth. _

_He took a couple steps in the direction of the baby. What if it was hungry? What if it was as scared as he was? What was he going to do if it didn't stop crying? Would it stop if he tried to hold like he'd seen mommies do in the movies and on television? What if the men came back and hurt it because it didn't stop crying? _

_The door flew open behind him and one of the bad men hurried in looking very angry. The man shoved him aside and he fell to a bruised knee and cried out in pain. _

"_Shut up…" the man said and hit him hard in the stomach. _

_Spencer rolled to his side and tried not to cry like the baby. He tried not to listen to the man shout at the baby and call it terrible names. And yet, it wasn't the baby's fault that she was here and being hurt by the angry man. _

_He pushed himself up to his feet and ran at the man that was bent over the cradle. Maybe he could distract the man so that when the police came and took away the baby, she would be okay. He kicked out at the man and the man roared in anger. He turned and reached out to slap Spencer. His hand connected with Spencer's face and it was like a bomb went off in his head. White hot pain lanced through his face and he screamed in pain. The man shouted at him to shut up, but it hurt too much. He sobbed and the man hit him again and again. The blows rained down on his head and his back. He was kicked in the ribs and the kidneys. The last thing he saw before passing out was the man turning back to the crib and the baby. _

_---_

Reid shook his head and made his eyes look at something other than the poor baby in the rags. This wasn't twenty years ago, and he wasn't helpless. A rage that turned his vision to red washed over him. He turned with his gun and almost ran into the man that had come around the corner. He was tall, very fat and he was smiling.

"I told them not to call the police. See what happens when you disobey orders."

"Drop your gun," Reid shouted hoping Morgan would be coming soon. Surely they could hear him on the radio.

"I don't think so," The man had a Glock, just like Reid's trained on the young agent. "You're going to let me go or the little boy you seek will die."

Reid pulled the trigger on his gun and the bullet whined past the man's head with a loud crack and hit the stone wall behind him.

"Put it down," He hissed at the man.

"You can't shoot me. You're a federal officer, it's not -"

"Shut up and put down the gun. You're going to tell us where you hid the boy." Reid snapped. "Or I'll kill you."

The man looked into Reid's eyes and knew that he was telling the truth. Morgan came around the tottering pile of boxes as Reid stepped toward the bigger man.

"Reid…"

Reid ignored him and advanced on the man. "Reid… Stop…"

"No, he k-killed the baby… It s-shouldn't have h-happened Morgan. We should've found them sooner."

"Reid…"

The man had put his hands in the air when Morgan came around the corner. "You're partner is crazy," He said looking wildly around from Morgan to Reid.

"Shut up and don't move."

"S-stay out of the w-way Morgan... S-someone has to pay." Reid was shouting.

"He will Reid, we'll take him into custody and he won't hurt another child."

"Yeah… the boy's in the office on the second level. We didn't hurt him I swear." The man begged all of his bravado was gone.

"I don't care…" Reid shouted, taking another step forward. "Don't you see that someone has to pay? I was there and I saw what he did to her. I tried to stop him, but I was too small."

"Reid… let me handcuff him and then we'll talk about it."

Reid nodded taking his finger off the trigger and lowering the gun, as shameful tears began to run down his face. Morgan secured the man and shooed Emily away when she came around the corner. She looked from him and Morgan a clear question in her eyes.

"It's okay… It's under control."

She shrugged and left the aisle with Morgan as he took the man away. The man threw one last scornful look at Reid, his bravado restored now that Reid wasn't pointing a gun at him. Reid ignored him and stared at the tiny baby on the pile of rags. The child wasn't suffering anymore, but it didn't make him feel any better. He should cover it up or something. He looked around and there was nothing to cover it. It wasn't right; there should be something to keep the poor thing warm. He pulled off his flak jacket with the yellow letters FBI emblazoned on the back.

"Reid… What are you doing?"

He jerked back and the jacket drifted out of his fingers to the filthy floor. "I have to cover her. She's cold…"

"Hey kid… You'll compromise the scene."

"Oh right… But it's so cold in here and -"

"Reid! Snap out of it." Morgan had grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

"What… Oh, I'm sorry Morgan. I don't know what's wrong with me." He looked back down at the baby and went white. "I can't be here… I can't see this anymore!"

He turned and hurried out of the building, almost knocking over Emily who'd come back to see what was going on with them.

"Not now Emily, "Morgan said as he chased after Reid.

The warehouse was perched on the edge of the river and it was to the edge that Reid retreated with Morgan following him.

"Hey man, what's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it Morgan."

"You'll feel better if you do." Morgan pulled his jacket around his shoulders. The wind was brutally cold, the kind that made your eyes water and your nose cold.

"Oh right, so you can go tell Hotch like you did last time."

"What are you talking about?"

"You don't remember telling Hotch about my nightmares."

"Of course I do! What does that have to do with anything?"

Reid turned his back on Morgan and watched the sun on its slow course down the horizon to the west. It was going to be dark before they left. Maybe he should just stand there and let the lack of sunlight freeze him to the walkway.

"Reid…"

There was no way to avoid it. Hotch would be looking for them soon. He might as well tell it. So he told Morgan about his kidnapping as a child and the death of the baby that had been in the same room with him.

"…they were going to sell both of us to a pedophile ring. I was just so upset that I couldn't save the baby. She's always in my nightmares and I don't know how to make them stop. I just wanted to save the baby and that little boy so much. I didn't want him to end up like me."

"You were six years old. What did you think you could do?" Morgan stepped around the young agent to look him in the eye. He said softly, "You were sold to a pedophile ring?"

"No… the police found us in time. That's why I decided to I wanted to work in law enforcement."

"I'm sorry Reid."

"I know. I'm sorry I lost control back there. She shouldn't have had to die like that!."

"You're right, nothing like that should happen to children. I wish I had the power to stop all of it, but I don't and neither do you." He put an arm around his friend. "The only thing we can do is what we're doing."

"I know… It's just harder than I thought it would be."

"Come on, you can be the one to interrogate him. I think he has a healthy fear of you now and we need to know where his partner is."

"Okay…"


	5. Past and Present Sorrow

**Past and Present Sorrow**

"Agent Hotchner?"

Hotch turned to see a tall man with dark brown hair and familiar brown eyes. Though he was expecting to see him, Hotch was still caught off guard by the similarities. _It's almost like looking into a weird, age-progression mirror._

"Mr. Reid," he answered. He reached out for a handshake.

"Please, call me William."

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that."

William nodded in response. "I can understand that. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances. How is Spencer?"

"He's still in a coma, but the doctors are hopeful. His brain activity is exceptional, of course…" William smiled slightly at that-_a very similar smile. _"His prognosis is good but they requested I contact his next-of-kin just in case something goes wrong. Technically I have his power of attorney to make decisions, but I didn't feel right about not consulting you first."

"I appreciate that Agent Hotchner. I know that you probably don't think much of me…" he held up a hand to forestall Hotch's protest… "But, I do care about Spencer very much."

"I don't think the feeling is mutual," Hotch interjected bitterly. _I probably shouldn't have said that, but damn it the man needs to hear it!_

"I'm sure it isn't," William confirmed calmly, and the acceptance in his tone surprised Hotch. "That's mostly my doing and I don't blame Spencer at all for being upset. I intended for him to be angry with me." Hotch's brain struggled to find logic behind that statement but none was forthcoming. When William didn't continue, Hotch spoke the first coherent sentence that came to mind.

"What do you mean you 'intended for him to be angry'? You hurt him on purpose?" The long-held anger against Reid's father boiled to the surface as he contemplated the heartlessness of a man that could abandon a ten-year-old and an ill wife.

"No, not like that; look, would you mind if we go somewhere more private to talk? I'll tell you the whole story." Hotch nodded his agreement, and the two walked in silence through the crowded hospital lobby, down a nearly empty corridor to a vacant waiting room. Hotch shut the door behind them and they sat across from each other on the plush couches. Neither spoke for a few moments until William broke the quiet.

"It started when Spencer was nine…" The miserable tone in his voice caused Hotch to look up and study the man as he spoke. "Diana worried about him a lot. I did too, of course. We both worked a lot at the University, Diana with her professorship, me serving as Dean temporarily. Spencer learned to be independent early, but we still tried to keep a close watch on him. A child genius is big news in town, and in Vegas, well I'll just say we got many offers for him ranging from various studies to casino jobs to 'selective procreation'." Hotch felt his jaw drop at the thought. He'd never considered that aspect of Reid's childhood.

"Anyway, when he started high school, he wanted to ride the bus like the others in our neighborhood. Diana was adamant that he shouldn't so we drove him most days, or our next-door neighbor would take him on our early mornings. Then, our duties at work picked up so much that we were relying on Mrs. Jenkins three or four days a week. We decided that wasn't fair to her so we let him ride the bus a few times as a trial, and if things went well then he could ride in the mornings and Diana would pick him up on her lunch break. It seemed to go well so he ended up riding the bus a couple of mornings a week."

William paused for a long moment, and Hotch felt a surge of anxiety build up in his chest. He had a sneaky suspicion that he wouldn't like where this story was going, even though he had no idea which of the terrible things running through his mind was true.

"Then, one morning about three weeks later Diana came to my office, frantic. Spencer's school called her to say that he hadn't come that morning. We knew he wasn't been sick when we left and that he was supposed to ride the bus. We made phone calls to everyone we could think of- friends, neighbors, Mrs. Jenkins. Diana went to the school to make sure he wasn't hiding or stuck in a locker somewhere. That happened a few times before. I went home and canvassed the area between our house and the bus stop. After a few hours, we called the police. Of course, there was no such thing as an "Amber Alert" back then, but the LVPD got on it right away. Spencer was well known so they considered him a 'high risk priority'. The CSU scoured the bus stop, the bus driver went to the station for questioning, and Diana and I were interrogated for several hours apiece. I think they thought we were suspects until the ransom call came in almost two days later." _Oh my god, he was kidnapped! Poor kid, no wonder he has issues. "_By that time, the FBI had arrived and they were monitoring our phones and our house…"

William trailed off, lost in thought. The investigator in Hotch couldn't help but ask for details. "How much was the ransom demand?'

"$500, 00." For the second time that day, Hotch felt as if he'd been punched. _That much?_

"Did you pay it? How on earth could they expect you to get that much?"

"Diana and I made good salaries from the college, so we had just over half of it between our savings accounts and investments and Spencer's college fund." He gave a small, rueful laugh. "Diana, she didn't want to take the money we'd saved for Spencer. It really bothered her to use it, but I finally convinced her that we had to get him back safely before he could go to college y. The rest we got through donations. As soon as people heard, money started coming. The university donated $75,000, as did several other colleges across the state. I'm sure they all had an ulterior motive of getting Spencer to go to their school, but it we appreciated the gesture. The lead agent, advised us not to pay, but we gathered the money nearly six days we had enough. The police had no leads, no suspects, nothing. So when they called asking about the money, we arranged a sting. Things got messy but we got him back. The police arrested three men, who gave up the man behind the whole thing. I think they are all still in jail as of now…"

"What was the motive? Why did they take Reid?"

"It turned out that the bastard had stalked Spencer for almost a year. He had pictures, newspaper articles, clips from local TV, all kinds of sick stuff. Apparently, he saw Spencer competing in the State Spelling Bee the previous school year and he became obsessed. He figured having his own personal genius was his ticket to the good life, or something like that. He just didn't realize how difficult a nine-year-old can be, particularly a terrified nine-year-old prodigy that knows more about absolutely everything than you can ever hope to and is afraid of the dark and has violent nightmares." _So, he's always had nightmares…there's an interesting topic for Dr. Benson._

"After two days, he couldn't handle Spencer anymore and decided to get his money the easy way. I hadn't believed it when the FBI said that whoever had Spencer wouldn't kill him because they had an objective, but they were right I guess."

"When you got him back, how was he?"

"He was traumatized, obviously. He didn't speak for days and he jumped at any sudden movement or loud noise. He cried a lot, which was highly unusual for him." William's eyes took on a dark look, and his voice grew hard. The knot of fear in Hotch's stomach twisted. "I'm sure I don't know all the details of what happened during those five days, but I know enough to go to every one of those bastards' parole hearings to make sure they don't see daylight except through a window. He was in the hospital for two weeks. He had a broken arm, bruised ribs, a concussion…and…'signs of abuse'-restraint marks and such. I'm sure you can imagine."

_God, Reid! _Hotch felt nausea rise in his throat and the familiar surge of sympathy for victims and their families washed over him. _I don't know if I could get over something like that happening to Jack. _Suddenly, a thought occurred to him and his anger rose so quickly that he barely had time to control it.

"Wait-you mean to tell me that less than a year later you abandoned a traumatized kid and his sick mother! What kind of man does that?" Hotch stood as he shouted, but he managed to put his fists in his pockets before they met William's face.

"Wait, Agent Hotchner, please hear me out! I didn't want to leave!" That was enough to keep Hotch interested, and he paced the room as he listened. "Spencer actually recovered better than any of us expected. He had extensive therapy, and his counselor was extremely impressed by his reaction. We were pretty close back then, and we talked a lot." _Yeah, so close that you left him! _"He told me about what happened, about the things they made him do, about how he felt. We talked about his nightmares. I guess he was able to process it on some higher level or something. I don't know; he's a tough kid. It was Diana that couldn't cope. That week took its toll on her; she was a nervous wreck. Once we got him back, she went into extreme over-protective mode. She barely let him out of her sight for months. She even wanted to home school him for a while. It drove him, and me, crazy. I understood her feelings but she just couldn't move on. She seriously hindered Spencer's recovery, which is why we started taking her to doctors to begin with. Her paranoia got progressively worse; she started suspecting everyone for all sorts of things. She blamed me for Spencer's kidnapping, and she carried that anger to unreasonable heights. She got to where she didn't even want me to be around him. Life was miserable for all of us. Even after her diagnosis and medication, she was impossible. Finally, almost a year later, she told me to leave."

"She kicked you out?"

"Yeah. We argued for weeks and I tried everything to convince her to let me stay. My presence seemed to agitate her. The only one that could reach her at all was Spencer, which is why I couldn't take him from her. She refused contact with everyone else, and I know she would have died if he hadn't stayed. I wanted to take him, badly. I certainly didn't want to leave my boy in that position, but I couldn't have his mother slowly kill herself either. I needed Spencer to take care of her, and I didn't want him to resent her for making me leave. It made more sense for me to be the bad guy." William lowered his head and rested it on his hands. "I've asked myself if I made the right choice everyday for 17 years."

The weight of William's words settled heavily on Hotch. He felt enormous empathy for him. He knew all to well what it was like to wonder if you made the right decision for your child. The same question kept him up at night. Tears pricked the back of his eyes, but he wouldn't let them fall. He cleared his throat a few times before speaking.

"What did you tell Reid when you left?"

"I let him think I couldn't deal with Diana anymore. I didn't tell him she was forcing me to go; I told him it was my idea. He tried…tried to convince me to stay, quoted statistics on divorced households…" both men smiled slightly at that thought. "I yelled at him. I said that we weren't statistics and I left! Those were the last things I said to my son. What kind of father does that make me?'

"One facing a very difficult decision," Hotch replied honestly. He wasn't sure whom he felt worse for: Reid, for thinking all these years that his father abandoned him, or William, who had to leave his son and wife because of things he couldn't control.

William nodded miserably. "You know, I tried to keep in contact with Spencer for a while. However, if Diana found out she got furious. If I came by the house, she'd yell and threaten to call the police. If I called, she'd hang up on me. I tried to get her to let me talk to Spencer but she wouldn't have it. I even went to Spencer's school to see him but she took me off the approved visitor list. I could have fought her for visitation, but what kind of man takes his mentally ill wife to court? I figured it was better for both of them if I made a clean break. I still helped support her all these years, and between my insurance and her pension, most of her care is paid for. I've followed Spencer's career also. I saw that he joined the FBI, and to be honest it scared me. I thought about calling him then, but I didn't think he'd want to hear from me after all of these years. I figure with his connections, he can look me up when he's ready."

Suddenly William's head flew up, and he looked at Hotch with a panicked expression. "I just remembered: he was abducted a while back! I saw it on the news." When Hotch nodded, he continued. "I called the FBI headquarters and told them who I was. The only thing they said was that they couldn't tell me about an active investigation. I begged, and pleaded, and pulled every string I could, and the best I got was they let me leave a message for the lead agent…" he trailed off and his eyes widened. "That was you, wasn't it?"

Hotch winced internally. He just now remembered receiving a message from headquarters about someone claiming to be Reid's father. He'd brushed it off at the time, having other things to worry about. "Yes," he responded guiltily, "it was me. Honestly, I thought it was just another reporter trying to scoop out an exclusive. JJ fought of the press for days, but still a few managed to get through and get some minor details. Things were pretty hectic then, and I just didn't have time to deal with it."

"That's understandable, and I'm not upset with you. I'm glad you were there for Spencer. Actually, an Agent Gideon returned my call a few days later. He didn't tell me much, but he let me know that Spencer was ok and was being cared for. That was true, right? He was ok, is ok? You took good care of him?"

Hotch nodded hesitantly. "He's ok, now, or well, he was before this," he indicated their surroundings. "He did have a rough patch afterwards. Do you know anything about what happened?"

"Nothing other than what was on the news."

"The unsub, suspect, Mr. Hankel had Disassociative Identity Disorder. One of his personalities, Charles, was a religious zealot who wanted to punish people for what he perceived were their 'sins'. He would watch them until they committed some wrongdoing, then he slaughtered them. Tobias, who was the real personality, worked as a tech support operator. He would gain access to their webcams, record the murder, and then post them online as a 'warning'. His third personality was Raphael, an "archangel" who made sure that "God's will" was carried out. He called in the murders to the police just before they happened."

"My god and these are the people-the person-that took Spencer?"

"Yes." He studied the floor near his feet while he spoke. "I sent Reid and JJ out to interview Tobias, who we thought was a witness to some prowling incidents in the area near one of the murders. While they were gone, we received the latest video. The sheriff recognized the dogs that killed the woman as belonging to Tobias. That's when I realized I sent them straight to the killer without backup." Hotch could hardly believe that he was talking so freely about this. Only in therapy had he been so open with his feelings about that incident. _He does have a right to know the truth though. He should know what role I played in this. _He met William's eyes, and the understanding and sympathy in them surprised him.

"You couldn't have known," William stated softly.

"I know that, logically. It took us over an hour to get out to the farmhouse. By that time, Hankel was long gone with Reid and JJ had shot three killer dogs in the barn. Hankel deliberately kept trying to throw us off the trail. It took us two days to find him, and he gave us most of the clues!" William looked shocked and pleased at that revelation. It reminded Hotch of the pride he'd felt when he realized Reid had given them the vital piece they needed.

"Charles tried to beat Reid into confessing. We saw some of it on the videos. When we got there, he had a broken foot, bruised ribs, a major concussion, and had suffered cardiac arrest."

"What! He died?"

"Yeah. Tobias drugged him with Dilaudid to "help him". The drugs combined with the beatings, the stress, low blood sugar, and dehydration caused him to have a seizure. His heart stopped for almost two-and-a-half minutes…I…we…we thought he was dead…" Hotch closed his eyes and swallowed down the sense memory of the panic and despair he'd felt in those minutes. "But, fortunately, Tobias came in and gave him CPR. The hospital said it was just short of miraculous that he survived."

"God, Spencer!" William shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know how that boy survives the things he does."

"Me neither," Hotch agreed. "He struggled for a while. Dilaudid is a form of heroin, and is highly addictive. The kind Reid was given had been cut with a psychedelic so it was even harder to break. It took some time but he finally got past it. I think he reached his year mark a few months ago. He doesn't like to talk about it much, but he knows how proud we all are of him."

"That's incredible. He's incredible." William smiled at Hotch. "You all are really like a family huh?"

"Absolutely," Hotch replied firmly. As he spoke he realized this was the first time he'd ever admitted it to anyone. He had no doubt that the words were true though.

"I'm glad Spencer has people in his life to care about him. He deserves it."

"He certainly does. He's a remarkable young man. You should be proud of him."

"Oh I am. I always knew he'd do something amazing. He has so much potential." A look of fear and anguish crossed William's face as he gazed around the room. "At least, I hope he still has potential," he stated sadly.

"He does," Hotch commented. "I have full confidence that he'll make a spectacular recovery, just like he does everything else."

William smiled at that. Hotch went over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, I'll take you to see him for yourself. Maybe you can tell me more about what it's like to raise a child genius."


	6. Why?

A**/n hey all, it's mabelreid's turn to dazzle you. Please enjoy. Remember to shoot tearbos a review.**

**Warning: This is very AU.**

**Why?**

I was eighteen the first time I killed. Of course, you already know that, but we must be precise for the sake of future generations.

Yes… I know you think I'm arrogant, but I know that arguing about my ego isn't why you're here. You came to see me because you're the only one that could. The rest of them were too overwrought by my crimes I suppose.

I'm not stalling… You're the one that insists on making observations about my mental and sexual aberrations. I don't care about any of that - at least not at this moment - there are more important things to discuss.

Who was my first victim? Hm… I don't know if I want to talk about her. After all, the first time is always special, isn't it? Okay, I'll tell you all about it and I won't ask for anything in return.

Alright, keep your shirt on… I'll tell you… Her name was Brenda. I don't remember her last name. See if you keep interrupting me like that, we'll be here all day. Ok… Her name was Carly Shipman. I meet her at a small café at Harvard when I was beginning my last PhD. You're wondering how I was able to lure her away. See… this is the problem I've always had with colleagues, they never take me seriously. On the other hand, that worked in my favor with a beautiful woman like Carly.

What… Oh yeah… You want to know if I chose her because she looked like my mother. Will it make you happy if I say yes? I'm not being evasive! You wrote the profile that caught me. You supposedly know me better then myself. Alright, yes, she looked like my mother, but that's where the similarities end. Profilers always pigeonhole themselves with things like assuming the victim looks like a mother, or a girlfriend. I suppose I pigeon-holed myself by being a slave to precedent. Would you believe me if I tole you I just wanted to be normal. No… I suppose you wouldn't believe me…

The truth is that I picked her them for their looks and not because she was like my mom. I didn't have time to stalk and get to know them. I had to grab my victims whenever there was time and I was sure I wouldn't be caught. That's why I never killed in Virginia.

Carly was special, not solely because she was my first, but because she finally freed me from everything my mother ever told me about myself. I was powerful instead of weak, handsome instead of androgynous, charming instead of awkward. I learned that I could get to anyone at anytime by using all the talents I'd been told by _her_, that I didn't have.

What was it like to end someone's life? It was unlike anything I've ever felt. It was beyond euphoric. There are no words to describe it and believe me I've tried. You'd think a genius would be able to dredge some kind of description from their mind, but not me.

I disgust you… I can see it in your eyes. No matter, I'm not here speaking with you because I want your approval.

Why did I agree to this? I should think that it's obvious. I wanted to get caught. I knew the moment I met you that you'd be the one to see through my mask. I knew you'd be the one to stop me from obtaining what I've always wanted.

Yes… I wanted to kill my mother. She was a bitch and I loved her too. She beat me, and she sang me to sleep with the most beautiful lullabies. She locked me in dark closets for hours, and she'd read to me for hours on end. She was a woman of many contradictions and she was ill. I know she was ill, but the little boy inside me only wanted his mother to love him and treat him like the other mothers.

You probably think that committing her was my so-called stressor, and I suppose your right. I was finally old enough to defend myself and instead of taking the next step and killing her, I put her out of my reach for all time.

You don't believe me… I can't help that… I'll tell you where you can find Carly and the others. My life is over and I'm glad. What little boy wants to live without the comfort of acceptance from his mother? She'll never be able to give me that.

No… I'm done, leave me the recorder and I'll give you what you want, but I don't want to talk to you again.

No Agent Rossi, I'm not angry with you. You were only doing your job. Thank you!

You look surprised… Yes… I am grateful to you. You stopped me from hurting my mother. I lied to you. I'm sure you realize that. I would have found away to get to her despite the security of that place. Thank you for stopping me.

Agent Rossi, before you leave, do me a favor. Tell my mother I love her.


End file.
